The Great Roll Under Conspiracy...

It occurred to me today that I tend to let little things bother me more than they should. I don't think that I'm alone in this, but I'm going to take steps to not sweat the small stuff anymore.

The major issue that was on my mind today was toilet paper. I think it's funny how something as dumb as whether the toilet paper goes over or under can become a "This is the hill I'm prepared to die on" issue. My former boss told me that the first fight he and his wife had after they got married was on this very same issue. (He was right, she was wrong.)

Now clearly the correct way to put a roll of toilet paper on the holder is to position it so that it rolls over. I'm not sure in what alternate universe rolling under would be the correct method, but I'm glad I live in this one. Do people teach their dogs to "roll under?" Does the annoying childrens' song say "There were 10 in the bed and the little one said, 'Roll under?'" I rest my case.

Try to argue with my logic... you can't because you can't argue with a crazy person... you never win.

I first became aware of the Great Roll Under Conspiracy a few months ago at work. I don't know who is behind it, but there is a dark force at work in my store and they are trying to make me crazier than I already am. For the last 12 and a half years, the toilet paper and paper towels have been put on their respective holders correctly. Lately I have discovered, with increasing frequency, that the paper towels are on the holder in the "roll under" position. Of course I immediately switch them. I'll go into the Ladies' Room and find that a new roll of toilet paper is on the holder, and yes you guessed it, it's rolling under.

If I were a stronger person, I could just walk away from this, but sadly I'm not. I am so compulsive about this that I will change it in restrooms at restaurants. I have to force myself to not change it in other peoples' homes. I do find it amusing that it's easier for me to accept someone's choice to embrace a religion or lifestyle different than mine than I do to accept their decision to roll their toilet paper under.

Veni, Viti, Vacuum... I came, I saw, I Hoovered!

I know that I was born possessing certain gifts that God saw fit to give to me, but housekeeping skills were not ones that He in his infinite wisdom saw fit to bless me with. All my life I've been terrible at keeping things clean. My mother gave my toys away to my preschool and the toy box at my father's store because I wouldn't clean them up. Watching those grubby little children play with my toys was awful and still I didn't learn to be a better cleaner. I tried for a little while, but soon fell back into old habits of stuffing things in drawers and into my closet.

My parents were very wise and got me a waterbed as soon as I was out of a crib. A waterbed's frame is solid, there is no hiding stuff underneath it. So while all my friends got to shove stuff under their beds instead of truly cleaning, I had to find more creative places to hide my things, instead of just cleaning them up properly.

Now that I have a home of my own, and its up to me to be the one to keep it clean, I realize why my mother used to work so hard at getting my sister and I to do chores. It's a lot of work, and it seems like there are forces working against me to get it done.

One day while I was cleaning, I started imagining the participants in this battle. I think that the main players are Major Pigsty, Lieutenant Lazy Butt, and Corporal Comfy Couch. Major Pigsty is a sneaky devil... he must be in some black ops division of the military. Domestic Destruction Detachment?

I know that the DDD must be working against me because it is simply not possible that 2 people and 1 dog could create this much of a mess. So the best that I can figure is that Major Pigsty sneaks in when I am not home and creates havoc. He commands his detachment to come in and dirty the dishes and leave them laying around after I have cleaned the whole kitchen.

Major Pigsty does not work alone, he recruited Lieutenant Lazy Butt to do his dirty work. Lt. Lazy Butt sneaks into my psyche and tells me things like, "You don't really need to vacuum right now, just turn on the TV for a little while," or "Washing the laundry is the biggest part of the battle, you don't really need to fold it and put it away." And Lt. Lazy Butt is so conniving yet convincing that I find myself on the couch with the computer in my lap and watching my dvr'd episodes of Days of Our Lives.

Lt. Lazy Butt is aided Corporal Comfy Couch. While this may not seem like a dangerous pairing to other motivated people, to me they are a truly terrifying duo. Corporal Couch is a silent partner in this operation, and he works much like a Venus Fly Trap. He sits there looking all comfy and alluring but then as soon as you sit down you are good and truly stuck for at least a little while.

Now picture, if you will, poor beleaguered me fighting against this insidious force of darkness all by myself. To keep this on a slightly even scale, I guess I'll have to give myself a military rank too. I think that I am probably PFC Horrible Housewife. I come onto the field of battle and I survey the wreckage and have to fight the urge to simply wave a white flag of surrender to the DDD. I look around for reinforcements, but find myself standing alone. So, usually I allow myself to be taken as a POW and simply held captive by Corporal Couch while the DDD does their worst.

Occasionally though I find the strength and courage to fight back. Today was one of those days. I decided to take decisive action against these evil geniuses and hit them hard. I formulated a plan and armed with bleach and hot water I headed for my bathroom. I gathered up the bathmats and shower curtain and threw them viciously into the washing machine. I took the shower curtain liner and soaked it in the aforementioned hot water and bleach. Then I went back downstairs and picked up my frenemy Zappy the Vacuum and I went after Big Blue. This was where things got a little scary. It had been awhile since Zappy and Big Blue had met, but I persevered and after a few moments I had triumphed. So, riding high on the small victory, I moved onto the TV room and put Zappy to work in there too.

Then I decided that the bathroom hadn't seen the last of me, so I went in armed with my trusty can of Dow Scrubbing Bubbles Bathroom cleaner. I thought that I had finally found my reinforcements. If you watch the commercials you see that the bubbles come zooming out of the can, and while triumphant music encourages them on, they whizz around the shower scrubbing their little hearts out. However, much to my dismay, the commercials are a BIG FAT LIE!!! They didn't come zooming out ready to do battle. In fact, the cowardly little buggers were reluctant to leave the can. They clung to the nozzle, gathering into a big foamy glop that ran down the can and all over my hand. Perhaps they were scared to go into the battlefield that was my shower, but that's no excuse. I finally forced them to live up to their responsibilities and rush headlong into the fray and start working. It appears their hearts weren't really in their work, so I helped them out with a scrub brush, and stepped back a few minutes later feeling very satisfied with the crushing defeat the DDD had suffered at my hands.

My spirits lifted by this accomplishment, I hung the shower curtain liner back up to dry, and then grabbed my trusty Oreck vacuum (That DOESN'T delight in giving me electric shocks) and vacuumed the upstairs. Not to be stopped now that I was truly on a roll, I stripped the bed and came down and started another load of laundry.

Now I am happily ensconced on Corporal Comfy Couch documenting my partial victory over Major Pigsty. I realize that this was merely a tiny little skirmish in an ongoing war of epic proportions, but I'm going to revel in it anyway.